Forgetting to Breathe
by Katie Grey
Summary: Hagrid's lesson on hippogriffs, from Draco's point of view. Definitely canon, in my opinion. HP/DM.


_This was written for Kat (__roseusvortex), in a fic exchange at Caesar's Palace. The prompt was: "We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe" - Andrea Gibson. And at first, I had written a full page about Voldemort possessing people, and then I changed my mind and decided to go with this, lol. It makes a lot more since (although, I might come back to that idea in the future...)_

_Rated T, because apparently "bloody" is a bad word._

_This has not been beta-ed at the moment, so I apologize for any errors or inconsistencies. But I hope you like it, and Happy Valentines Day! _

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"Idiot," Pansy muttered, sourly. Her thin lips twisted down into a sneer, and she crossed her arms in defiance of, "_Perfect bloody Potter_ and his ugly scar."

"Pathetic little worm, perhaps?" Blaise corrected her, with a smirk.

They were standing as far as they could get from Hagrid's sorry excuse for a hut, on the outskirts of a crowd of Slytherins and Gryffindors all enduring Care for Magical Creatures class. That is, all except for Potter and his friends, who were _enjoying it_. They were asking questions, and smiling, and _oohing_ and _aahing_ when Hagrid brought out a hippogriff, on a leash.

"Ugh. Have they never seen a bloody hippogriff before?" Pansy asked, in her high-pitched voice that sometimes hurt Draco's ears, and with her nose high in the air.

Well, Draco thought that the hippogriff was quite an impressive animal - although he would never have admitted it. The sharp, cruel curve of its beak… the glint of its eyes… and it was huge, almost the size of Hagrid's entire hut. Golden feathers that reflected the sun, and Draco knew that it was supposed to have a cry louder than that of any phoenix.

"Didn't I tell you? He's a worm. He's never been outside of his little pile of dirt before," Blaise said, which earned a little smile from Pansy. Draco smiled half-heartedly as well, if only to pacify Pansy, who was looking at him worriedly, because he normally pretended to laugh at their jokes.

It was a difficult task, because none of them were funny.

_None_ of them.

But being the son of a death eater didn't give him much room _not_ to laugh. He had to be friends with them. Otherwise, he would be an outsider, easy to pick on, easy to hurt. And weakness was not an option, _never_ an option, as his father always reminded him. So he would just have to endure the agonizing _stupidity_ of the two people standing beside him (not to mention the rest of Slytherin house, as they were all equally idiotic).

"Who wants ter go fer a fly?" Hagrid asked, pulling Draco out of his thoughts. He had a ridiculous grin on his face, and was holding the hippogriff's leash in one, huge hand. It was stamping its feet against the ground, and snorting loudly, making steam billow out into the frozen winter air. And then it spread out its wings, and they were wide, and majestic, and they made the entire class gasp in unison.

And then Potter raised his hand.

Pansy snorted. "I hope he falls off," she muttered.

Blaise smiled. "I hope he dies."

"I'll bet you ten galleons he breaks his arm."

"I'll bet you fifteen he breaks both his legs."

Draco listened to their conversation, and for some reason, he found himself hoping that they were both wrong, and that Potter would be perfectly fine. And he couldn't look away as Potter stepped forward. He bowed low, and the hippogriff matched him. Then he straightened, and climbed onto the hippogriff's back. His friends cheered for him (Granger looked slightly horrified) and Potter grinned at them.

And then the hippogriff flapped its great wings and rose slowly into the air.

Pansy and Blaise held their breaths, each with a handful of coins in their hands, each watching intently as the hippogriff flew up and up and up… until all that could be seen was the outline of its wings against the sun.

And Draco found that he wasn't breathing either.

And then they heard a shout of delight, and the hippogriff took off over the trees, flying faster and faster, until it was only a speck in the distance.

Draco stood still as a statue, the way his father had taught him to. He did not chew his lip, he did not bite his nails. But he still knew that if anyone had taken the time to really look at him, they could have seen the anxiety, falling away in waves. Because his mind was spinning with it, with the worries and the fears that didn't make any sense.

Why was he so nervous? Was it because of his messy hair, or how his glasses perched so delicately on the tip of his nose, or the way that his eyes shone when he spoke about something he loved? Or, maybe, it was something else. Something different. Something that made Draco so scared, because he didn't want Harry to _fall._

Draco watched as the hippogriff drew closer, and the boy seated on its back grew and grew, until Draco could see his face. See the smile etched onto it, his glasses, his eyes. Something hurt in Draco's chest, something burned. Something that he hadn't noticed before, but somehow he knew that it had been there for a long, long time.

The hippogriff landed gently with a majestic flap of its wings, and it bent to let him slide off and onto the ground. His friends cheered, and he ran over to them and into their arms.

Pansy and Blaise let out annoyed breaths, and shoved their handfuls of coins back into their pockets.

Pansy elbowed him. "Don't forget to _breathe_," she muttered. "I know you wanted to see him fall too, but that doesn't mean you have to suffocate."

Draco blinked at her, and then realized that his lungs were burning. He sucked in a deep breath, and another, and another, until the burning went away.

The ache was still there, the ache in his chest, right where his heart was.

Pansy smirked at him. "It is a shame though, really. If he had fallen, I wouldn't have to listen to him whine about his dead parents anymore, _and_ I would have fifteen galleons in my pocket!"

For some reason, Draco wanted to yell at her, to tell her _not_ to say things like that. And he couldn't explain why, for they had always made fun of Harry, always said cruel things about him behind his back (and in front of it), and he had never had a problem with it. But now, he found it strangely off-putting. He didn't like it at all.

He wanted something like what Harry had. Friends who encouraged him, friends who loved him. Draco wasn't sure that he even had any friends to begin with.

Pansy had thought that he had forgotten to breathe because he was so eager to watch Harry fall, but that wasn't true.

He had forgotten to breathe because he wanted him to land safely, and walk away unharmed.

Something swelled up in Draco's heart, like a wave, about to knock him over. And he found himself looking at Harry as if for the first time, drinking in his great, big, blushing smile, and his shining green eyes. Draco's breath caught in his throat, just for one moment.

Perhaps…

_Perhaps…_

And then he pushed it away. No. It could never happen, _nothing_ could ever happen. Didn't he realize how dangerous this was? The instant that his father suspected something was wrong, he would march down to Hogwarts and murder him without a second thought. Draco loved his father, but he wasn't about to pretend that his father loved him back.

"Draco?" Pansy asked. "Are you all right?"

Panic. Oh god, she had noticed.

Draco nodded numbly, and then found himself at a loss, trying to find a way to prove it. Pansy wouldn't believe him, simply because of a wordless nod. And _not being all right_ meant weakness, and weakness was dangerous.

His eyes fell onto buckbeak.

And he stepped forward. "This must be easy, if Potter can do it. I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you, you great ugly brute?" he said. His words were filled with bitterness, because he could see Harry glaring at him.

And the hippogriff reared, sending Draco to the ground with one kick of its hooves.

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